


Survivors of the Wreck of Time

by amethyst-noir (Arbonne)



Series: Prompt Collection [110]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Canon Disabled Character, Crossing Timelines, Fake Science, Friends to Lovers, Getting to Know Each Other, Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Human Experimentation, Hurt Stephen Strange, Hurt/Comfort, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, M/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Tony Stark, Recovery, Serious Injuries, Stephen Strange & Wong Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29826828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arbonne/pseuds/amethyst-noir
Summary: Stephen had been in love with Tony Stark for so long, and through so many different timelines, that the feeling had become a fixed part of his being, something that was justthere, fully intertwined with his very soul. Something that was treasured, something that gave him strength and comfort when he needed it, something he held close to his heart without even consciously being aware of it.(Sometimes a timeline has to bend and twist to make things that are supposed to be happen.)
Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Series: Prompt Collection [110]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1126062
Comments: 61
Kudos: 102





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aelaer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelaer/gifts).



> Based on this wonderful prompt by @aelaer: _Hey so I just want whump with a happy ending and you do whump with happy endings so like I just want Stephen caught by bad guys (doesn't matter who, Demon of the Week, Evil Cult of the Week, w/e) all whumped up (obviously) and he's basically rescued by Everyone because Everyone Loves and Cherishes Him And This Is An Important Thing (how many Everyones you actually include is up to you. Lots is good). And you do your thing; I just want another version of a rescue that I'm not writing. kthxbye._
> 
> Okay, so it went off the rails rather quickly but that can happen. Those stories write themselves, you know? Also, there is less rescue and more pages and pages of comfort and talking because, well, it's _me_ and that's kind of my style. Thing. Whatever. This was a ton of fun to write and I hope it's as much fun to read. The title is taken from a piece of dialogue in _The Adversary_ , the sixth episode of the first season of Westworld. 
> 
> All my thanks and gratitude go to @atypical-snowman for the beta. 🤍
> 
>  _Saved at the Last Moment_ from the bingo card that shall not be named.

_1 before 14.000.605_

"No! Hey, hey, Strange, look at me. Stephen? Come on, don't do that to me." Tony carefully patted the man's cheek in an attempt to rouse him again. "I don't like it when people die on my watch. I still have nightmares about people dying who are actually still alive so I really don't need more of that kind of stress."

No reaction. _Fuck._

Apart from a moment of recognition after Tony had finally managed to break through the cage of freaky space needles imprisoning - _impaling_ \- him Strange hadn't shown a single sign of awareness. His eyes were open but not reacting to anything and going by the limited data that his suit's sensors could give him his vitals were in free fall; death inevitable with the supplies at hand.

"I'm sorry," Tony whispered after the labored breathing of the man in his arms had finally stopped. "I wish I'd found you sooner. I wish…"

So many things, actually, but right now he kind of wished he was able to use that shiny stone around Strange's neck to bring him back to life, so that the wizard could bring them back home through one of those freaky ass portals of his.

He carefully and fearfully reached out to touch the still green glowing Infinity Stone.

"Don't hurt me," he begged against all hope and got the shock of his life when the necklace opened by its own accord and the thing more or less _fell_ into his palm.

"One last surprise for me, hmm?" he asked softly before putting the pendant aside for the moment to take the time to gently close Strange's hauntingly striking eyes forever. He would have liked to see what else the man could have brought into his life. The glimpse of the personality behind the formal robes - and even more formal words - had been… enticing, to say the least.

The freaky cape wrapped itself around its master and grew as still as him. Okay. Nice that it could take the rest of the day off but Tony didn't have that luxury.

"I'll bring you home to your friend," he promised before shoving his grief to the side to deal with the unpleasant reality of being the only living being on a spaceship on the way to wherever.

* * *

_The "winning" one of the 14.000.605_

Stephen held up one finger, hating himself and silently cursing the even worse-than-usual-trembling.

 _One possible future_ , he reminded himself, trying to psych himself up for the inevitable. He was only keeping a promise, he tried to tell himself. He'd told Tony that he would sacrifice him - and Peter - without a second of hesitation, after all. Okay, he had hesitated over 14 million times but nobody but himself would ever know that.

_There is no other way._

He clung to the mantra as he sent the man he'd grown to love over millions of timelines to his death, cursing himself for not having found another one.

"I'm sorry," he whispered not much later, head bowed and fighting against tears, while kneeling to show his final respect. "I wish it could have been me."

The fact that Tony had known exactly what was going on and had neither hesitated nor hated Stephen for his choices was comfort so cold that it threatened to encase what was left of his soul in ice. He stared at the trembling wreck of his hands and allowed the familiar wave of self-hatred to drown out the grief and the despair.

Everything was better than feeling the loss of a love that never had the chance to come into being at all.


	2. I.

It hurt. Hurt so damn much. He was used to pain - by now it was more than an old friend and more like being in a fucked-up, co-dependent, long-term relationship - but he was so tired of it at the same time.

His body, his mind, everything was on fire with no relief in sight.

Stephen curled up tighter, trying to shield his hands with his body, and barely gasped when another kick connected with his side, slamming his head against the metal of the floor and driving one of the implants even deeper into his brain.

 _No fucking way_ , he promised himself once again. _I will not break._ No matter what they would try next.

If this was the punishment for his sins it might be appropriate but still. He wanted it to _stop_.

His magic was carefully shielded and there was _nothing_ those assholes could do to him that would make him let it out to defend or heal himself. He'd rather die - again, and hopefully for good - before giving them what they wanted.

He was too exhausted - and his throat too sore - for screaming out loud but internally he did.

Constantly, when he wasn't busy cursing his circumstances and his life.

***

"Tony. You should see this."

Rhodey's voice was always calm under pressure but now there was _something_ in his tone that made Tony pay extra attention.

"On my way," he promised, blasting the last of the drones almost as an afterthought, already following the route FRIDAY laid out for him towards Rhodey's position.

Looking back he maybe should probably have brought more people with him to deal with the freaky pseudo-HYDRA holdout; but between all the deaths - and those who were still too much in mourning to be of any use - there weren't many people he trusted to have his back these days. Also, he was in the mood to kick some ass anyway.

Pity, that he'd only gotten to dismantle some robots so far; all the human inhabitants had fled after they'd seen the Quinjet approach. The scans of the base had proven more interesting than following some rabble who could be picked up by SHIELD anyway.

"Hurry," was the clipped response.

He turned the last corner just as the word faded away. "What's going on? Found something interesting?"

"You could say that," was the ominous answer and whatever it was Tony just _knew_ that he wouldn't like it. Whatever 'it' turned out to be.

 _Just don't let it be the seventh Infinity Stone_ , he begged the universe. _We just about got rid of the first six._

"A little bit less cryptic pl..." he started to say but then Rhodey took a step to the side and Tony could see what - or rather _who_ \- he'd been staring at so intently.

"Fuck," was Tony's reaction for a moment or two before he violently shook himself out of his shock and blasted the old-fashioned and quite frankly cliché cage door open.

A fucking cage in the middle of a cell, decorated with runes or whatever those signs were. Tony didn't care, too focused to get in the cage to get to the occupant in there.

For a moment he wondered why Rhodey hadn't done that but he was too busy crawling into the small space and carefully poking the man huddled together in the corner to ask the question out loud.

"Hey," he murmured when he got a tiny sob for his efforts. "Not gonna hurt you. I just want to look at you. And get you out of here, of course."

No reaction. Not that he'd expected one, not really. Not after seeing the more or less naked, curled-up ball of human and smelling and seeing the state of the tiny cage he was kept in.

He didn't need to see the face anyway. He didn't know why, considering it was fucking impossible, but he _knew_.

"Strange?" he asked. "Doctor Strange?" Still no reaction and Tony swallowed hard. "Stephen?" he tried and this time there was a shudder, followed by a tiny motion of the half-shaved head, exposed skin marred by barely closed wounds and metal peeking through, and a glimpse of those unique, blue-grey eyes, that still haunted his nightmares.

The memory of the laboratory/improvised operating room he'd been investigating before the drone had shown up came up unbidden and he had to fight against the sudden urge to throw up. He had a pretty good idea who'd been the victim in there now.

Tony took a deep breath and made eye-contact with the man that had quietly and unspectacularly died in his arms over two years ago.

 _Fucking impossible._ Tony retracted the armor before gently taking Strange's head between his hands to keep him from hiding his face again. "Shh," he tried to soothe the scared man. "It's okay. We're here to help."

Rhodey probably had been afraid of scaring an obviously terrified man even further but Tony couldn't imagine not forcing his way in there to try to help. Especially not the man he'd failed to save once already.

Strange blinked at him, confused and frightened, but surprisingly docile in Tony's gentle hold. Judging by the defensive wounds visible at even one glance that was a miracle.

_What the hell is going on here?_

"FRI, show us the damage."

There was a pause of two seconds before the AI answered and Tony already knew that he wouldn't like the data parading in front of him.

"Fuck," he whispered and faintly heard Rhodey echo the sentiment as he looked in as well.

"Hey," he said a little bit louder and tried to catch the unfocused gaze. "We're going to help you but you need to unfold yourself first. I know it hurts but please. Here, I'll help you." He remembered the state of the man's hands and a quick glance down confirmed it. A shaking, bloody, broken mess. "Try to keep your weight off your hands. Put it all on me and I'll pull you out."

Why, how, it's fucking _impossible_ and various variations of the theme were running through his mind on a constant loop as he slowly - so damn slowly - helped Strange out of his prison.

_Cage. It's a fucking **cage**._

"Shh," he tried to soothe when Strange put too much weight somewhere he shouldn't have and flinched back with an aborted gasp of pain. "You're almost out. I've got you."

A few moments later they were free and he had the shivering and emaciated wreck of an already dead man in his arms. He didn't even try to ask if Strange could walk out of here on his own.

"I'll keep the way clear," Rhodey promised, evidently coming to the same conclusion.

"I'll alert the medical team at the compound," FRIDAY added helpfully.

Tony allowed himself one quick look down at the part of Strange's head that had been shaved but where the hair was already starting to grow back, barely hiding the deep wounds on his skull. FRIDAY's scans had shown the ugly truth beneath.

"We could need a neurosurgeon of your caliber now," Tony confessed to the barely-conscious man as he hoisted him up, bridal style. He was barely a burden, much too light for a man of his height and the stature Tony remembered. "You'll need them."

FRIDAY's vague scans had made his stomach turn over and he felt bad for the team that would have to try to minimize the damage.

"There's nobody of my caliber," Strange whispered in a broken voice and Tony and Rhodey both looked at him in shock. His eyes were still closed but it was obvious he was halfway-awake and coherent, something he _shouldn't_ be, considering the damage done to his brain.

"Yeah, you're a pretty unique guy," Tony gave back, once again grateful that his mouth worked on autopilot. "It's nice to hear that your ego is still working."

Strange actually _smiled_ at that. Slightly, but an actual smile. "It's immortal," he whispered.

"Yeah, just like you, it seems." The question of _how_ once again rose up but Tony beat it back down. No matter that he was talking, there was no way that Strange was capable of answering questions like that right now. He probably shouldn't even be speaking at all, considering that his skull had been opened up and foreign crap inserted into his brain. "I'll find you the next best one," Tony promised. "Or rather FRIDAY will. You'll get the best care the world has to offer this time 'round. Don't worry, I can afford it."

He couldn't let Strange die again. Somehow he'd gotten a second chance to save him and by God he would use it.

Strange made a sound that might have been a question but Tony shushed him again. "Save your strength," he begged just as he carried him to the waiting Quinjet. "You'll need it. I'm not letting you die on my watch." _Again._

There was something that could have meant "been there, done that" but Tony couldn't be sure because Strange finally gave up and lost consciousness.

"I'll stay with him," Tony said after he'd put back one of the seats and strapped Strange in after covering his hands with a thin spray of sterile nanites and the rest of him with a blanket. No way he was going to fuck around with the mess that was his hands.

Rhodey just gave them a passing glance. "I'll get us home in record time," he promised and Tony nodded in acknowledgement, too busy trying to figure out what the hell had happened to Strange.

He carefully guided his head to the right so that he could look at the damage on the left side of his head.

"How bad is it?" Rhodey asked just as they took off.

Tony swallowed down another bout of nausea. "Bad," he answered. "Seems like they tried to bootleg my nanites but they did a shitty job. This is worse than my first attempts and you know how awful they were."

"And that's relevant to the half-dead man we have here in what way?"

"They put that crap into his brain."

"Fuck," was Rhodey's succinct reply to that.

"Yeah. This is going to suck." He called up a holographic keyboard. "I'll try to break through to their base coding and deactivate them before we land. I don't think it will be possible to get them out of Stephen as long as they're active and doing whatever it is they're programmed to do."

"Which is?" Rhodey demanded.

Tony took some time before he answered, trying to not believe what his eyes were telling him. He was unsuccessful. "Without access to an Infinity Stone it seems HYDRA, or at least their bastard child, tried to figure out how magic works by fucking around with the brain of a sorcerer." He stared at the data parading in front of him, trying to wish it away by sheer force of will alone. "Or rather: _In_ the brain of a sorcerer."

Rhodey's reaction was a sound of disgust that didn't even need words to convey how revolting he found that. Tony could sympathize.

"I'm sorry," Tony told Stephen - yes, he was Stephen now, no way around that - once again. "Seems like I'm always getting to you after it's too late."

"Not dead yet," Stephen murmured so quietly Tony could barely hear it.

This time, his eyes were closed but his mouth worked. Despite the breathtaking beauty of his eyes Tony preferred that right now.

"You're a stubborn bastard," Tony told him and gently stroked through what was left of his hair. He'd read once that touch was comforting and could help against shock. There wasn't anything else he could do while his quick and dirty program did its job in trying to break into the nanites coding. It was shoddy, but so were the nanites, that barely qualified as such, so he was confident that it would be done in no time. "Why are you not dead?"

A sliver of blue/grey as Stephen graced him with a look before wincing and closing his eyes again.

"Shh." Tony covered his eyes with his left hand. "Don't."

He was ignored. "Could ask you the same thing," Stephen said after a minute or so of silence, just as Tony had convinced himself that he'd lost consciousness again.

Tony choked on a laugh at that. "I'm not the one who died two years ago," he said. "In my arms," he added after a moment for more emphasis.

"No," Stephen agreed. "You're the one who died seven years ago because I orchestrated your death."

Tony once again tried to soothe him with a touch. "I think your brain might be a little bit scrambled," he said softly. "Not that I can blame you. Don't worry. We'll fix that." _And then you can tell me how you came back from the dead._

"There's no fixing me," Stephen murmured. "Damage runs too deep."

Tony had a feeling that he meant more than the nanites in his brain but was saved from having to find a reply to Stephen's doom and gloom announcement by Rhodey's sharp: "Approaching the compound."

"Med team on standby," FRIDAY announced immediately afterwards. "I've taken the liberty to send them all the data I've collected so far."

"So much for confidentiality," Stephen had to say to that.

"We don't believe in that here," Tony told him sternly. "Not when it's life or death and freaky bastardized tech. FRI, how far are we with the nanites?" He could have checked himself but didn't want to take his eyes off Stephen's too thin face.

"The last test run was positive. The nanites should be inert by the time Doctor Strange is ready for surgery. Still running simulations on how to get them and the insertion device out of his skull with minimal damage."

An unpleasant shudder ran through the frail body at the word 'surgery' and Tony responded by half cradling him. For his part he didn't like the words 'minimal damage', not at all.

"What are the chances for permanent damage?" he asked, painfully aware of the original profession of the man in his arms. He just _knew_ that Stephen needed to hear this.

"Unclear." Another unusual hesitation from his AI. "I'm not even sure if there isn't already," she added with some amount of actual sorrow in her voice.

"Sounds about right," Stephen breathed. A moment later, just as the Quinjet set down, he forced his eyes open for a second. "Tell them minimal painkillers," he demanded. "You won't like the side effects of me being drugged out of what's left of my mind."

Tony took a breath to protest but held himself back at the last moment. Stephen was too far gone and even if Tony could guess where this came from - in the end it would be the professionals who would decide what kind of meds Stephen would end up on.

"Don't worry," he said, painfully aware of how stupid that phrase was, "this place is pretty much unbreakable by super-strength or magic. We've had our fair share of experiences with both here."

No reaction. Stephen had thankfully finally lost the fight against the encroaching unconsciousness.


	3. II.

"I guess I should contact Wong then," Tony told the air in front of him about five hours later. "Maybe he knows something we don't."

Every test, every scan, every old medical record and everything else FRIDAY could get her processing power into told the same story: The man currently barely clinging to life in his medbay was Dr. Stephen Strange, ex-neurosurgeon, sorcerer, major pain-in-the-ass and also somehow not as dead as he was supposed to be to Tony's eternal bitter regret.

He wished there was a grave he could exhume but since he hadn't managed to keep his promise to bring Stephen's body back to Earth and to Wong there wasn't.

"Guess this is my chance of making it up to both of you," he muttered absently while staring at Wong's name and picture in his contact list without touching it.

There hadn't been much contact between them after Thanos' defeat in Wakanda. Before that, they'd established a rather good working relationship but something had been missing to make them more than allies working on a common goal. He had a pretty good idea what - or rather _who_ \- had been missing to make the relationship between Avengers and Sorcerers a more permanent one. Wong had faded back into mystery, very probably trying to keep together what was left of his magic coven, and Tony, too exhausted and guilty over his failure, had let him.

Instead of calling Tony looked down at the armada of doctors fighting to keep Stephen alive while repairing what they could of the damage done not only to his brain but his whole body.

Tony shuddered just thinking about the laundry list of things wrong that FRIDAY had projected in front of him.

"How's he doing?" he asked, still trying to procrastinate the call he knew he had to make sooner rather than later.

"He's still alive," was the less-than-reassuring answer.

 _He shouldn't be_ , Tony heard. FRIDAY didn't mean the fact that the man down below had died over two years ago, he knew. This Stephen, it seemed, was even more of a stubborn fighter than the Strange from two years ago had been.

Good for him. He'd need all that and more to pull through.

"I've also taken the liberty of contacting Master Wong since you've been too busy observing the surgery to do that. Portal incoming."

FRIDAY's warning came a split-second before the portal but it gave Tony just enough time to not suit up but only jump in surprise before turning around.

"Hello, Wong."

"What happened? Your FRIDAY was uncharacteristically vague when she called and sent me a picture to portal here."

Wong hadn't changed, not even a bit. The circumstances were dire but Tony had to smile at that. He took a deep breath and gestured downwards. "I found someone who wasn't even missed," he said, foregoing all the explanations he had prepared in advance. "I thought you might be interested."

"Impossible," was Wong's statement after he'd stepped up next to Tony and stared down for what felt like an eternity.

"Impossible? That Rhodey finds the guy who died in my arms years ago in some creepy torture prison? Yeah, I thought so too. But he's still here and I thought you might want to know." He also needed answers and Wong was the only one who could maybe give them.

"That's not Stephen down there. It can't be." Wong's voice almost broke on the name and for the first time Tony got a glimpse of the true devastation Strange's death had left behind.

Tony tried to make his voice gentler. "According to all our scans and the man himself he _is_. Don't ask me _how_. He doesn't seem to know either but judging by the state of his brain I'm not surprised." He swallowed hard. "They played around in and with his _brain_ , Wong, and hurt him when he tried to defend himself. We found him just in time."

There was also a fair amount of physical torture involved but Tony couldn't even _think_ about that, let alone speak it out loud. According to the notes he'd found and skimmed through they'd taken relatively good care of Strange's body - until it became obvious that he would rather die over and over again ad nauseum before giving in to their demands and torture. That's when the physical abuse got ramped up; an outlet for frustration and hate.

Thankfully, that had only happened a day or two before Rhodey's and his arrival and cleaning out of the place.

"You talked to him?" Wong couldn't take his eye off the display below, not that Tony could blame him.

"A little bit, yeah. He's a stubborn bastard who doesn't know when it's better to lose consciousness."

Was that a slight smile on Wong's face? "Sounds like Stephen, yes." Wong shook himself out of his reverie. "When can I see him? I have theories who he really might be but I need to see and touch him to examine him."

Ah yes, the reason he wanted to call in Wong in the first place. After a moment of deliberation Tony carefully put a hand on Wong's forearm. "Let him survive surgery first," he suggested gently. "After they've stabilized him there will be enough time to check him out. "

Wong wasn't accepting the obvious yet, that was clear, but he accepted Tony's words with a curt nod. "I guess he deserves that. You talked about experiments with his brain?"

_So much for confidentiality._

Stephen's weak words echoed in Tony's memory and he had to suppress another grin. _Not the time_ , he reminded himself.

"Let's get some coffee and I'll fill you in," he offered. Wong just _looked_ at him. "FRIDAY will tell us the moment anything changes or they're finished with him. He's in the best hands money can buy, promise."

"Whoever he is," Wong muttered but allowed Tony to lead him away.

 _He's Stephen_ , Tony's mind offered helpfully. He hadn't anything more right now but for the moment it was enough. Another chance to save the man he'd failed so badly two years ago.

*

Tony would never be comfortable with magic but even he had to admit that Wong's magic felt _nice_. Warm, comfortable, and safe.

Now he was watching as Wong used his magic over the comatose body of Stephen.

Against all odds and predictions, from doctors and FRIDAY alike, Stephen had survived surgery, clinging to life with the same stubborn determination he'd clung to consciousness in Tony's arms before. His body was connected to pretty much every life-sustaining machinery modern medical science could provide and his brain had been freed from its intruders while the brutal open wounds in his skull had been closed up.

What kind of damage they had left behind was still unclear; that he had survived a miracle; and _how_ he had done it a mystery.

The damage done to his right hand, sadly, was _very_ clear. Broken fingers and bent steel pins had necessitated new ones. This time specially treated vibranium, courtesy of King T'Challa himself after Tony had reached out for help, to keep their shape no matter what. Stephen's left hand, by some miracle, had escaped more or less undamaged and was only lightly bandaged to stabilize the fragile wrist and cover the surface wounds.

"He's _a_ Stephen Strange not our Strange," Wong announced after his glowing mandalas had faded away.

The quiet words ripped Tony from his contemplations. "Excuse me?"

"Look at him," Wong said, gesturing at him to come closer. "He's older than our Stephen was."

Tony didn't see it. Maybe there was a little bit more silver in his hair, and he was thinner than in his memories, but other than that he looked the same. "He was held captive and tortured to death and back," he said. "That makes everyone look like crap and older than they actually are."

Stephen had died a couple of times during the experiments, he'd discovered while pouring over the records from the laboratory, but they'd always managed to get him back in the end. Very probably to the endless despair of the man being brought back over and over again.

Wong shook his head, clearly not having it. "He also _feels_ different. He's Stephen Strange, no doubt about that, but not the one we've lost."

Oh, he got it now. "Multiverse?" he guessed.

Wong nodded. "A universe close to our own, I think, but with its differences."

"Like an alive Stephen," Tony continued. "Nice. For him. And that universe, I guess. But what brings him _here_ , to ours? Not that I'm complaining, mind you. It's not like we didn't have a Strange-shaped void here."

"Tony. We can't _keep_ him."

Okay, now Wong was talking complete nonsense. "Of course we can! We found him so he's ours now! You've said often enough that the work of your order would be so much easier if you'd still have him!" Wong actually had said that before their contact had broken off about a year or so ago.

"He doesn't belong here."

"'m with you on that. Hate hospital rooms."

Stephen's slurred words interrupted their discussion.

What the fuck? There was no way in heaven, hell, on Earth or in any universe ever that Stephen was awake, coherent, and fucking _talking_.

After giving Wong a helpless look Tony came up on the other side of Stephen's bed and touched his shoulder. "Sorry, you're stuck here for the time being. Including painkillers. Don't worry, you didn't set anything on fire yet."

"Probably because his magic is mostly sealed away by his own doing," Wong helpfully suggested and oh that would have been nice to know _before_.

Stephen's head moved towards his voice and his eyes opened just enough to see Tony. Tony instinctively moved his hand to provide support for his neck. "How… bad?" His voice left him and he was gone again a second later.

"Not as bad as we all expected, apparently," Tony answered anyway. "Wong? Care to share what's going on here?" He was still touching Stephen, absently tracking the pulse beneath his fingertips.

The army of doctors and nurses would soon descend on the room, he knew. He'd thrown them all out against their advice to give Wong privacy to work.

A helpless shrug. "He's as human as you and I. I have no idea. Except that he's always been a very stubborn man who didn't know when to give up. It seems that those traits transcend universes." Wong smiled down at the now once again sleeping man, showing more fondness than before. "You can deduce the rest."

Ah yes, the sealed off magic. Yeah. Tony wasn't so stupid that he couldn't guess what that was about.

The door opened as the medical staff arrived and Wong was back to his stoic self as he backed away. "I'll be back tonight," he promised. "Don't leave him alone."

Tony just nodded. He had no intentions of doing that; not until he was sure that Stephen would pull through at least. Maybe, hell, _probably_ , longer. He was _invested_ now. His curiosity had awoken and he _needed_ to know.

He wanted to be here for this Stephen like he never could for the one who'd died.


	4. III.

"He hasn't said anything since then? Not even…" Wong trailed off. The spent as much time as possible at the compound but fact was that Tony had practically moved in here. By now he was used to giving status updates that always stayed the same. He hated to disappoint Wong over and over again and it was hard to watch how the hope faded from the man's eyes a little bit more every time.

Tony shook his head. He still had no better news. "Not a single sound. The doctors aren't sure if it's because of the damage, due to trauma, or if he simply doesn't _want_ to talk with us but…" He trailed off.

"If he could, he would talk," Wong said after a moment. The thread of affection behind the words was obvious and Tony hoped that Stephen somehow could subconsciously hear it. He deserved to know how much he was loved by someone he technically hadn't even met yet. "I can't imagine that there is any Stephen Strange out there who doesn't love the sound of his own voice," he continued after a moment and Tony had to chuckle. From what little he knew of the man he had to agree.

"In his defense - it is a rather nice voice."

He got a hint of a smile from Wong for that. "It is."

There was even more silence after that little exchange. Tony had never been a fan of enjoying the silence but by now it was an oppressive thing that threatened to make him suffocate.

Six weeks. Six weeks of surgeries, induced coma, slowly awakening and silence. Stephen was still too weak and his body too depleted for more than the most basic of physical therapy which he endured with an empty look and without even a sound of pain or complaint.

It didn't fit with Tony's view of the man, not at all, but ever since that slurred complaint that he hated hospitals there had been nothing from him.

He sometimes looked at his surroundings, and especially Tony, in a way that suggested that there was still something going inside his brain but he didn't react to words, to touch, to any outside stimulus.

There hadn't even been a flinch when the bandages on his right hand had been changed for the first time while he was awake and could observe. Even Tony had shied away in disgusted sorrow when he'd seen the battlefield of incisions and stitches on top of old scars.

"I want to try something," Wong announced, finally shattering the silence. Still no reaction from Stephen but Tony was all ears.

"Anything. I'm this close to just marching over there and kissing him just to get a reaction out of him."

Wong just _looked_ at him, perfectly capable of conveying a lot by just that. "I somehow doubt that you would get the reaction you're expecting. From what I know…," he hesitated and changed tracks, "… looking back on what I knew of our Stephen he wouldn't have been averse to the idea of being kissed by you. It's probable that he," he nodded towards their new and not-very-improved version of Stephen Strange, "wouldn't be either."

Oh wow, not the reaction Tony had expected not at all. "I'll keep it in mind then," he said weakly, desperately trying to shove the mental images that suddenly occupied his mind back into oblivion.

Wong, on the other hand, seemed to like the idea. "It's a good idea. He had nothing but professional touch since the moment you brought him here. I think. You're not holding hands while I'm not here, are you? Or is that your new hobby now that you've hunted down the last of his assailants?" Without any warning or waiting for a reaction Wong left Tony in the door of Stephen's room and went to him.

"Hello, my friend," he greeted with more warmth in his voice than Tony had ever heard before, just before putting his hand on Stephen's left shoulder.

Looked like Wong had finally accepted that this Stephen was here to stay, Tony noted to his relief. No matter where he came from and how he had ended up here - there was no way Tony would let him go again. He'd failed one Stephen Strange, he would protect this one with everything he had. His own reality had failed spectacularly in that regards so now it was their turn to make up for it.

Tony, never one to be left behind, stepped up to the other side of the bed, blocking Stephen's line of sight out the window into the greenery of spring. He deliberately put his hand on the same spot as he had weeks before - where shoulder met neck, making sure to touch bare skin. "You're safe now," he promised. "You can come back." He resisted the urge to brush back the dark hair. It was only beginning to grow back on the left side of his head but the rest was becoming rather long; dark brown, almost black, mixed with silver in an interesting combination.

No reaction, apart from a slow blink and the tiniest motion of Stephen's head into Tony's gentle touch.

Tony took it as the victory it was and absently stroked the skin under his fingertips. "You have something else?" he asked Wong.

A nod. "I want to bring in the Cloak of Levitation," he announced. "I want to see if - and how - they react to each other."

Now it was Tony's turn to be silent as he digested that. Stephen, for his part, didn't react to the announcement at all.

"I thought it d…," _died_ he wanted to say but corrected himself in case Stephen could hear them, "went inert after Strange's…" _death_.

Not even the tiniest flinch in Stephen's body. Tony looked down only to discover that his eyes were closed by now but there was a hint of moisture on his lashes.

_Fuck._

"Are you crying? Please don't." He resisted the urge to wipe the tears away, wondering if it was really a reaction to his words or only to the bright light in the room. HE also didn't tell FRIDAY to lower the blinds because they'd discovered that Stephen seemed to feel better in broad daylight than dusky twilight.

"At least you got a reaction," was Wong's brutal assessment. "Yes, it did. Didn't react to anything since you brought it back." He patted Stephen's shoulder. "Much like him. Maybe they'll get a reaction out of each other."

"If nothing else it'll be a nice blanket for him," Tony agreed. "A pop of color in this whitewashed nightmare here." He hadn't managed to save Strange, or bring his body home, but he'd brought the cape back. Mostly, because it had clung to his suit like ivy and wouldn't be moved. It let go of him the moment he'd been in front of Wong, becoming a puddle of fabric that hadn't so much as twitched once after that as far as he knew.

"I hope it will be more than that." Wong withdrew from Stephen, obviously ready to leave. "Stay here, I'll be back soon."

Okay, wow. So they were going to do this _now_. Wong really wasn't a friend of drawing things out needlessly. Just another one of his traits Tony liked and appreciated.

"Sure. It's not like I have anything better to do," Tony muttered. "I'll just stay here and look pretty."

The sad thing was that Wong was right and he really didn't have anything better to do now that his little project of 'hunt down and capture every last person who hurt the wizard' had come to its end. The information he'd unearthed along the way was enough to make him swear off sleep for good but he still hadn't even the faintest idea who Stephen fell into their clutches in the first place. For that he needed the man awake, coherent, and talking.

Rhodey had left days ago to run interference with the various organizations and the alphabet soups that might get too curious on what Tony wasted his money on now. It was the best thing he could do, and Tony was so damn grateful, but he missed him terribly.

"Everyone of us does what they do best," Wong fired back. "Also, you spend so much time here that a couple of minutes more won't make a difference." He turned around to directly look at Tony. "It wasn't your fault. It was his time. Stop beating yourself up over things you can't change."

He had vanished through a quickly conjured portal before Tony's brain even had the time to process the words, let alone formulate an appropriate response. When he had processed them he wasn't sure if the advice was meant for him or Wong himself.

_Probably both_ , he realized, looking back down Stephen. "Are you our second chance? A new Stephen we can save and protect like we couldn't our original one? Who did you leave behind when you came here? I hope nobody misses you back there because we won't give you back."

Tony had always been a selfish man, after all.

* * *

Stephen blinked back another wave of annoying tears. Tony Stark had no business being so kind to a man he didn't know and neither did Wong. He also didn't know what to think about his feelings being outed so casually but what was done was done and it wasn't like he was in any position to protest.

"Don't worry," he whispered from his vantage point at the edge of the room - the perfect spot to survey the whole room while in his astral form. His body could recover on its own and he had no desire to be held captive in that broken shell now that he had the energy to escape for at least a little while every day. "Nobody's missing me."

There was nobody left to do so, after all.

There was only grim duty left back there and Stephen was tired of it. He still didn't know how he'd ended up in this brand-new universe, that seemed to be so much better than his original one, but since he'd been tortured and experimented on from the moment he woke up here he couldn't be blamed for that.

He still couldn't get over watching these alternative versions of Tony and Wong fret over him. On some deep level, and to his eternal shame, he had to confess that he rather liked it. His Wong had been a close and trusted friend but in the end Stephen had lost him, like he'd lost anyone else who had ever mattered to him, up to and including the Cloak. It was nice to bask in the friendly attention these two now gave him, even if he didn't permit himself to react to it.

The reminder of just how much he'd lost hurt, ripped barely healed wounds open all over again, and made him wish for the Eye of Agamotto to turn back time to a point before he'd ever heard of magic. Maybe make sure that he didn't survive the car crash.

He banished the thought with an irritated shake of his head. No point. That had been supposed to happen, like everything that had followed afterwards. There was no use in futile wishing; what was done was done. If he'd died back then he'd never discovered magic, met Wong or the Cloak or had the chance to get to know and fall in love with Tony Stark. Despite everything, he didn't want to miss any of those and a thousand other things that had happened to him since then.

Okay, he could have done without the dying, or the torture, or the fucked-up hack job of attempted brain surgery but that was life, right? Good and bad things, mixed together, no way to pick one over the other.

Just like he didn't have a choice if he wanted to end up here or not.

Things had turned out great here, right? Stephen had no idea _how_ , apart from the fact that his counterpart was dead, but Tony was alive and so were Wong and, apparently, the Cloak. He'd never heard anyone utter the word 'blip' and that was not something one could escape from back in his reality for more than a few hours during conversation.

The Avengers Compound was still standing instead of being a waste- and no-man's-land.

He somehow, miraculously, had managed to end up in what looked to be the perfect timeline.

And Tony? Oh, he'd gotten to know - and love - Tony in millions of different timelines but this one? Who was touching him with so much gentleness and genuine affection? Was a brand-new one. One who hadn't endured the loss of Peter on Titan and the disintegration of half of his world. His family, it seemed, didn't exist here because no way he would be spending the better parts of his days watching over the comatose body of man he barely knew.

No, this Tony carried other baggage with him, along with the one that Stephen already knew about, but he seemed more put-together than the wreck of a man Stephen had met that fateful day in Central Park and who he later sent off to his death.

This Tony…

… was carefully brushing his too-long out hair out of his face. "Don't listen to Wong," he told Stephen earnestly. "You only need a little bit of time and you'll be as gorgeous as you were the day I first saw you." He hesitated for a moment. "The other you, I mean. _You_ looked awful. But the potential is still there. 'Older', my ass. That just means we're about the same age now. You just need a few good meals and a haircut. Maybe let your beard grow again. It tied your whole aura of mysticism together rather nicely. Although you looked rather good in those old publicity pictures from your hospital as well." More hesitation. "I'm sorry that we came so late."

"You came before I was dead, so don't beat yourself up," Stephen whispered, not quite knowing how he was supposed to react to what was a genuine apology. "You brought me here gave me the best treatment money and connections can buy." Better treatment then he would have gotten back in his own universe, the one where there were no more Avengers, only bitter infighting between various factions, and an ever-dwindling order of sorcerers.

Who he had left behind to fight alone. Against his will, granted, but…

_Stop beating yourself up over things you can't change._

Huh. Seemed as if Wong's word of advice could have been meant for him as well as Tony.

Wong's return interrupted Tony's confession and Stephen turned around to see…

Yes. Wong had brought the Cloak of Levitation with him. Stephen wanted to reach out, to touch, to make sure that it really was his long-lost companion. Or at least an alternate version of it, he reminded himself. His original was gone for good but the urge to reach out and touch, explore and feel the fabric again was almost impossible to resist.

But that would necessitate going back to his body, waking up, and surrender himself to the inevitable questions and invasive examinations he'd escaped so far by virtue of appearing to be a vegetable.

A hint of phantom pain flashed through his hands as he balled them to fists to keep himself from reaching out. If he went back to his body he would only be able to touch anything with his left hand, he realized. His right one was still heavily bandaged and it would be at least a couple of more weeks, if not longer, before he could even try to do anything with it. Would he be able to feel and grab on to anything with it ever again? He had no idea, and neither had his doctors whose conversations and predictions he listened to with the greatest of interest.

_Is it really worth it?_ he asked himself as he watched Wong draping the Cloak over his still body with infinite care while Tony still absently stroked his skin. _Going back just to cuddle a piece of fabric that's not even **my** Cloak?_

Going back to feel Tony's and Wong's touch on his skin? Going back to pain and interrogations and probable brain-damage? He had no idea if he could talk if he went back, if he could move his body, or if he would be a total invalid. He hadn't yet dared to try anything while in his body, too afraid of being found out. At his best guess it had taken him over a week after he'd woken up from surgery before he'd managed to escape from the prison his body had become. By now he hated every moment he had to spend in the broken shell and preferred to observe it from an outsider's point of view.

Did the fact that he could still project his astral form mean that his mind was basically intact? And even if it was, what about all the motor functions? Questions over questions and only one way to answer them. One that scared the hell out of Stephen.

"See?" Tony said and the gentleness in his voice almost undid Stephen. He only had memories of doomed timelines where Tony was so gentle with him and couldn't deal with actually being spoken to like that. "We even brought your freaky cape. Anything else missing? What more do you need?"

Tony and Wong both were absently stroking the Cloak, Stephen noticed, but it didn't react at all to the touch.

The Cloak wasn't dead, like Tony had almost said, he could feel that. No, it was hibernating, no it was _waiting_. Strange, that Wong hadn't picked up on that. He'd expected better of him, just like he always half-expected Wong to react to his astral projecting. Or had it just been a lie, fed to Tony because the truth didn't concern him?

The urge to reach out and check on this copy of beloved companion grew stronger and finally, after giving himself a mental push, he went over and reached out to touch its edge.

Only for it to react to his astral form.

"Whoa!" Tony leaped back when one corner of the Cloak suddenly reared up and curled itself around what for him must be thin air. "What the fuck?!"

Wong just smiled, looking serene while Tony was freaked out but not nearly as fearful as Stephen had expected. This Tony generally seemed to do better with magic then the ones Stephen knew. Interesting, but also heartbreaking.

"I had a feeling," Wong stated, "that you're not as dead as you appeared to be." He patted the collar. "You've just been pining after your master, hmm? Sorry that I didn't bring you sooner."

Stephen wasn't sure whom Wong was apologizing to but it brought a smile to his face anyway.

In answer, the Cloak curled itself protectively around Stephen's body while still holding on to his wrist.

Tony looked at Stephen and Stephen followed his line of sight to watch his still and barely breathing body for a few moments.

"Maybe there really is some deeper damage they haven't found yet." Tony's hatred of that very real possibility was plain to hear, just like the hint of hope he stubbornly held on to.

Tony's tenacity was one of the things Stephen loved and hated in equal measures.

"Or maybe he just needs a little bit more time," Wong offered in return. "A sorcerer's innate magic can repair a lot of damage on its own but when the injuries are severe like his it takes time. It very probably saved his life after the accident that hurt his hands. Kept him alive until help arrived and during the hours of surgery he had to endure afterwards."

Stephen was standing, Cloak still wrapped around his right wrist, and listened with rapt attention. He'd _never_ heard or read about that before.

"So his magic can repair the damage to his brain?" Tony asked the question that was burning on Stephen's tongue as well. "All that weird, shadowy, areas on his scans that make the med staff so uncomfortable but that got a little bit lighter recently?"

Wong looked uncomfortable. Like a cat stuck on a tree, frantically looking for a halfway graceful way back down. "Maybe," he eventually allowed. "It's possible. We don't know much about it. Sorcerers of Stephen's caliber are rare and most of us can only do basic healing spells."

Stephen looked at Tony and could already see the gears turning, the hope he himself felt mirrored on his face.

"You said that he's different from our Stephen. Is he stronger, weaker?"

Oh nice, Tony was like a dog with a bone and his thoughts ran in similar paths to Stephen. It was wonderful to have someone who asked all the questions he wanted the answers to as well.

Wong didn't answer immediately and obviously thought very hard about how - or even _if_ \- he should answer. "Stronger, I think," was the eventual verdict. "As I said before - I think this Stephen here is older than ours was. Which means more experience and more power because Strange," okay, interesting switch of names here, Stephen noted, "was still only at the beginning of his path."

Oh. Okay, another new one. What _was_ the year actually and what the hell was all this talk about him being so powerful? Had the Strange here some special status he didn't know about?

_I'm not the one who died two years ago._

He wasn't sure if it was a true memory or not but if it was it opened up a whole new set of questions, bringing Stephen back to the question he'd been carefully avoiding since the moment he'd regained consciousness:

How the hell had he ended up in a torture prison of different timeline in the first place and how much time exactly had passed while he'd been stuck there?

If he wanted answers he needed to wake up and actually interact with this new universe. He'd known that since the moment he'd woke up enough to form coherent thoughts but so far the urge had been rather dimmed. Now it was a like a fire roaring inside of him, goading him to take the necessary step forwards to face this brand-new world for real.

Risks be damned, he'd always been a try first, read warnings later - if at all - kind of guy.

He allowed himself the luxury of caressing the Cloak with his right hand one last time before taking a not-really needed deep breath, closing his eyes and forcing his soul back into his body.

_Don't let me screw this up_ , he begged himself.

Tony's face was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes back in his corporal body.

All in all there could have been a worse sight and condition to wake up to; even the pain all over his body was dulled to a tolerable level thanks to all the medication coursing through his veins. _Thank you for not listening to me._ He didn't want to imagine waking up to the full sensations of everything crashing onto his poor mind all at once. The haziness of the drugs was heaven - or rather Tony - sent.

The enclosure around his magic still held, he sensed, which was another relief. He could also feel it quietly working inside of him, confirming Wong's theory and taking about half of his worries away.

"Hi," he whispered in a conscious echo of the last time he woke up to Tony cradling and reassuring him, despite knowing that this Tony had no way of knowing that. He wasn't yet quite clear when this timeline had branched off from his own but it must have been sometime between his abduction and the fight on Titan from what little he'd gathered so far.

Nice, he could still talk. Thanks, magic, he was pretty sure he would truly be a useless shell without it.

"Hi," Tony said back, confused and cautious. "Nice for you to join us in the land of the living and talking. What made you decide to wake up? Your blanket? My sweet words? Or did you get tired of sleeping in the end?"

Stephen was so busy staring at a Tony who was so vibrantly _alive_ that it almost hurt to look at him that he completely forgot to react to the onslaught of words. His mind might be what could be considered fine these days but his brain and body were still sluggish and slow to react.

"Stephen? Are you in there? It's nice having you look at me, it really is, but I'm not quite sure yet if there's more going on behind those pretty eyes of yours. Any more words you can delight us with?"

"He probably wanted you to shut up and decided to wake up to tell you that." Wong's words cut through Tony's babble and Stephen somehow managed to move his eyes so that he could look at him. "Hello, Stephen," he said rather warmly, while throwing up a shield of privacy around the three of them. "We need answers, if you're capable of giving them."

**Author's Note:**

> This little tale will be updated Wednesday and Sunday.


End file.
